The Warriors 2: Battle For New York
by ronnierocketAGO
Summary: [THE WARRIORS] The Warriors & the gang armies of New York City must unite to brawl with the ultimate opponent: The U.S. Government!
1. The Prologue

_**October 10, 1979**_

It's cold tonight. What is keeping him from actually being bothered by the penetrations occurring upon his skin by the slightly breezy air is the knowledge that "cold" will become "freezing" in just a few weeks. Then snow will come.

He despised, and envied, those rich snowbirds, those so-called "New Yorkers," that could lap it up in the city, then fly down to Florida when the first snowflake drops. The fact that they can afford to avoid the worst that this city can offer in crime, drugs, and winter while leaving the poor to drudge through it, just makes him angry.

That is, if Swan wanted to bother wasting his time in such a futile act.

Down on the deserted beach, sitting on one of the big rocks littering the sands, Swan looked out into the endless horizon of the Atlantic Ocean. No clue of what is to come for The Warriors. Is this abyss that lies ahead of him full of treasure or death?

Swan had quietly slipped out of the rather solid party back at the hangout when the last boxes of booze came in. His lieutenants and other foot soldiers off-duty from their sentry rounds didn't need their leader's help in enjoying the massive amounts of alcohol, narcotics, and women.

Swan hoped that by allowing the guys to enjoy their last major "hurrah" before the Halloween Bash at Cooney, it won't backfire in his face. He knew too well of Cleon's stories about the crack head finale of the Destroyers.

He had to get away from the noise of the party. He wanted this rare opportunity to reflect upon what has happened since his sudden and unwanted ascension to Warlord. The tides roll forward. Cyrus is the messiah. The tides are halted in their invasion of the beach. The messiah is dead. The tides are retreating back to the mother ocean. We don't see Cleon alive again.

The sands behind him are moving in a man-made pattern. Swan should be concerned about the footsteps approaching him, but they're too soft and smooth to be a fellow Warrior or rival gang assassin. He welcomes her presence.

Mercy sits on the rock with Swan. Neither shares any words with the other. They aren't needed. She leans towards him for warmth. A minute later, he slowly puts his arm around her. Swan was unwilling in nature to display any form of affection because of his need as Warlord to be seen by his subordinates as a stoic hard-man of action. Yet this was his general behavior years ago before becoming a street soldier. Being born into the same reality, Mercy understood.

She smashes the silence. "Let's go in."

Swan looked at her, and pulled out his watch from his pocket. Its 2 in the morning, its time to head back to the hangout. The boys surely are either winding up, or have fallen drunk as a skunk. He looked at his watch again. Slick but durable. Swan needs to find the chump he stole it from and complement him for the free gift.

The couple is nearly back at the hangout. "When will it happen?"

Swan was hoping she wouldn't ask that question. "Next week." He knew what was coming next.

"You think he can be controlled or even if he can stand not being in charge?"

"He'll accept it. He has no choice. If we have to drop him, so be it. But I would rather have him on my side when we begin the blitz. He's a jackass, but he never runs from a fight."

"I just hope you know what you're doing."

"Me too"


	2. Ajax the Free

**Chapter 1: Ajax The Free **

**_October 17, 1979_ **

"Thank you. Now report to the rest of your unit to continue their present operations."

--click--

Gary left the telephone booth rather quickly. He needs to get out of this ghetto dump side of Washington D.C. immediately. The Boss must hear this Intel immediately.

Then he feels the nozzle of a gun pressed hard against his back.

"You wanna live? Give me your money."

Gary closed his eyes. How did he walk into _that_? Oh well, it doesn't matter. He pulled his wallet from his coat, takes the crisp green papers, and hands it to the gunman behind him. The nozzle quits touching his back.

He turned his neck around to see that it's a young boy, maybe 13, wearing a gang uniform of a white shirt, blue jeans, and a red leather jacket.

"Thanks sir, now piss off!" The kid aims the gun at him again.

Gary turned his head back, and gently walked away. That kid must have been a member of the Sons of Liberty, the gang that owns this side of town.

Gary wondered how that punk would have reacted if he known he had just mugged a Special Assistant to the President of the United States. Imagine the street cred he could have yielded.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

All 4 of them have gathered at the end of the cell row, in front of the door. The guards can't just let him go on his last day in jail. Figures.

"Hello Arnold…"

He continued walking. He so wants to break that pig's face. Instead, he smiled in jest. Only a few hundred yards left. It's not worth it. Besides, the handcuffs and chains have his hands tied up. Not that such an obstacle has stopped him before.

"It's Ajax"

The guard won't easily get one last excuse to wallop this kid with his nightstick.

"Kid, why you keep using that punk gang name?"

"I don't know, why are you keep being a fairy?"

Boom, Bang, zing!

Ajax trips to the cement floor. Another of the guards tripped him on purpose.

"Ohhhhh, so sorry Ajax. I didn't mean to do that. You know how clumsy I am." The other guards laugh.

Ajax gets to his feet and turns to face them. "Its alright, that's why you're a babysitter and not a REAL cop."

The guards now laugh at the insulted guard.

Hell, I won't get a chance to do it before I leave these walls.

Ajax lifts his nose up and loudly smells. "Guys, do you smell that?"

The guards begin smelling themselves.

"Smell what kid?"

Only mall cops are dumber than these hack badges.

"Well, I smell fat and greasy stupid bacon with no balls."

The last of the annoyed guards walk up to the face of Ajax.

"We'll miss you, Ajax. We'll be waiting for you when your wiseass comes back."

The last thing that Ajax remembers is the guard punching his lights out.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

2 hours late.

Its nearly 4 o'clock, and Snow is getting fed up. He's been waiting at the front of Riker's Island Prison, leaning against his 1970 Ford Mustang. What could be taking so long?

There he is. Ajax walks out of the prison doors, wearing only a garbage wardrobe of terrible clothing and the worst haircut that Snow has seen in some time. All which were compliments of the New York City Department of Correction.

Snow starts laughing. Ajax used to beat up losers dress better than him right now.

Ajax is now at the car, baffled of sorts that his rival/superior was here. Snow reads from the mighty Ajax's face that he's annoyed with this laughing. Snow also sees that Ajax now has a rather nice and fresh black eye.

"Sorry Ajax, I couldn't help it. Say, did your man-lover give you a goodbye kiss?" Snow laughs even more.

"Bite me." He's in no humor today.

Ajax puts his hand on the car door.

"WAIT! Get your hand off my car!"

Ajax is now confused and pissed.

"Snow, What the hell are you doi-"

Snow puts his index finger to Ajax's mouth.

"Why is a Warrior allowing himself to be degraded on enemy turf."

Ajax is now confused and dumbfounded. Snow opens the driver seat door and reaches into the backseat. He pulls out a black trash bag.

"Come on Ajax, you know that a true Warrior must always wear his colors, with pride and muscle, on alien turf."

From inside the trash bag, Snow pulls out a Warriors vest, with a small switchblade-carved word on the back, signifying the name of the vest's owner.

Ajax's eyes light up. He's shocked.

"How did you get my vest back? The pigs took it from me when they booked me at the precinct. How did you get it from the evidence locker?!?"

Snow lightly grabs Ajax by the shoulder. "Come on man. After the Destroyers nearly killed us when they stole our vests last years, I made sure that we both would never lose our personalized colors of honor again, no matter what!"

Snow gives Ajax the keys to the car.

"Let's go home, brother."


	3. The Guns of Bad News

**Chapter 2: The Guns of Bad News**

_**October 18. 2007**_

"What was his question again?"

"Josh's question was how did the Mafia dominance of previous decades in New York City transfer into the Gang Era of the 1960s and early 80s?" answered the pompous-looking moderator.

Robert Lee Dougherty straightened up in his chair. Q&A sessions always make him nervous, especially those conducted at colleges. He'll suffer a bit more for the extra bread he'll earn from this.

"Well Josh, its pretty complicated story, like everything else. But to simplify what I wrote in my book, basically we must remember from the 1930s into the 1960s, the powerful families of the Italian-American Mafioso were either directly or indirectly behind all the major illegal activities of the city. Then came the Black Panther militias of the 1960s, we know about them. But difference between the Panthers in New York and the other similar bands in the other major American cities is their choice of battle."

Robert took a drink from his water bottle.

"The Black Panthers elsewhere, especially on the West Coast, went to war against the unfair racist system, which usually meant the police. However, while the Black Panthers in New York shared the ideology, they directed their efforts against who they perceived as the wrongful system: The Mafia. Those white Catholic Sicilians dominated the drug and prostitution rackets in Harlem. Black money was going into white pockets. Before they could successfully break away from the white government, they needed the consolidation of financial capital and underworld dominance-"

The Moderator interrupted him. "But how did that lead to say the Gramercy Riffs, the Turnbull ACs, and of course your Warriors?"

Dougherty wanted to smack him hard. Why not read the damn book before asking silly questions that the book answered? Oh well. At least Larry King and Jon Stewart had the courtesy of at least acting like they had actually read the book.

"Well, the Black Panthers in New York knew that if they were to take the Mob out of Harlem, it would be temporary. The Mafia could re-organize, and invade back into their domain. Something else must be done. The Mob must be broken within the city, and driven out. The Black Panthers didn't have the arms or manpower to do that. So they did what seemed contradictory to the ideology of their fellow BP brothers in America: They formed coalition alliances with gangs and syndications of other ethnic groups. The Chinese, the Irish, the Jews, and so forth. They and the blacks were rivals for generations, but they all had something in common. They resented the domination by the Sicilians."

"So they joined forces to take down the Mafia in New York?"

"They did. The Sicilians were outnumbered 5 to 1 ultimately. It took years, but by the 1970, the Mob was cornered into Queens. By '72, they were forced to retreat and encamp in New Jersey. Without the common enemy, the coalition broke apart, but what remained was this undisputable fact: With the Black Panthers breaking up into independent groups, they remained the most powerful criminal outfits in the city. This was the beginning of the so-called Gang Era, or as I think it should be correctly called, "The Bopper Era""

_**October 17, 1979**_

**_5:13 PM_**

Ajax took several deep breaths. The driver's window of Snow's Mustang is down, letting the smoke flow away from Ajax's first free cigarette in months. Snow has his passenger window down for his own smoke.

"Yo Ajax, speed it up. We should be home by now."

"Relax man, I aint giving the pigs an excuse to send me back into the joint tonight. Better safe than sorry."

Snow is shocked. "Are you Ajax, or did like the Body Snatchers replace you back at Riker's?"

Ajax rolls his eyes. Snow is right. Ajax isn't conservative. He's all for boom or bust. That's his personality. But Ajax made an oath to himself last night in his prison cell. He's never coming back. He'll die before he goes back to jail. He swore it.

"Yeah, well it's not much of a choice. Get switched by the space pods or have some big guys toss my salad around. "

They both laughed.

"Snow, turn the radio on. That'll kill time for us."

Snow's eyes widen up.

"Oh crap, what time is it?"

"I don't know, 10, 15 past 5?"

Snow didn't reply. His fingers jumped to the radio dial. Ajax wonders what the hell is going on.

"Ahh, I almost forgot about it!" He turned the radio onto "the" station, hoping its not too late.

The last sounds of some disco tune is winding down, when "the" female voice breaks through.

"Hello Boppers, we'll get back to your music in just a minute, but I've got a message to relay from the boys down in Coney, The Warriors. Boppers know of the Warriors. We remembered when they started their feud with the Destroyers over Coney. We remembered when the Destroyers were, well, destroyed in the spring, and the Warriors conquered the Island under the giant W. We especially know of their already-legendary war path back home through the city's armies of the night after they were wrongly accused by the Punks of assassinating Cyrus…."

Ajax slightly smiled. A lot of tragedy happened that night, but she's right. The Warriors owned everybody that dared to bump them off. Too bad the police got him.

"…what boppers are starting to forget is, there were three casualties that night for the Coney company. Their warlord and fore-father of the Warriors, Cleon, was killed by the Riffs shortly after Cyrus was shot. The Riffs are still slightly stained in the eyes of many boppers, who dare not to say it out loud, that the Riffs fell for the obvious lie of the actual killers, the Rogues. But, accidents happen."

Snow and Ajax slightly frown in silent sorrow after Cleon's name was mentioned.

"Then there was The Fox, the so-called best scout in Brooklyn. He unfortunately engaged the boys in blue at a brawl at a subway station when he was tossed in front of a train."

Snow felt awful for his other fallen comrade. Ajax was less woeful. He thought the Fox was a punk kid that didn't know not to screw with him. With the Fox and the "new" Warlord, they were the only brothers within the Warriors fold that Ajax hated. One less to rage against.

"But the third and last casualty of that night for the Warriors didn't perish in the mayhem. He was busted and sent up to Riker's by the Boys in Blue. That POW brother was Ajax, and he was let out of jail today. Ajax the Mighty, as his fellow Warriors now call him, is a sturdy and reliable pillar of strength and courage for Coney. Based on accounts of the Warriors and from a few anonymous members of the High-Hats outfight, it was Ajax the Mighty that, with just his fists, silenced their leader Chatterbox once and for all back in June. The Warriors also claim, though unconfirmed, that Ajax and his small band of Warriors hit a homerun when they wrecked the Baseball Furies and their Warlord, Cobb over at Riverside."

Ajax's ego grows.

"There is no brawl he will run from, no matter the scenery or the numbers against him. If the Prince of Darkness challenged him to a rumble, Ajax would give him one hell of a fight. The Warriors want to welcome back their brother Ajax the Mighty, and dedicate to him his favorite song on this station. Boppers, here's The Clash with "Tommy Gun.""

The opening drum tapings of the tune open up, drubbing out Ajax's face. There is a tear on the inner-corners of his eyes.

He doesn't face Snow. "That was beautiful. Who wrote it?"

"Stonewall, man."

"Who?"

Snow realized that Ajax didn't know the news yet. "Bobby."

"What?!?"

"Yeah, your cat Bobby. He got initiated into the Warriors weeks ago."

Ajax slapped his steering wheel. "I knew it! I told you guys through the lawyer that Bobby, err, Stonewall was a damn good writer."

Snow took his smoke out of his mouth. "Yeah you did. Hey, what's that?"

Ajax peered forward. He sees guys up ahead on the street. Yellow dreads. Blue Jeans. Several of them are standing in the car's direction.

The Jones Street Boys.

Ajax just realized their identity when the Boys open fire their guns into the Mustang's windshield.


	4. Breaking the Ice

**Chapter 3: Breaking the Ice**

_**October 17, 1979**_

_**4:33 PM**_

Gary Zimmerman hasn't had a good day. First, the Sons of Liberty mugged him of his money. Then the Slammers, the _other_ major gang in the district, stole his car. At least he got back to HQ in one piece with his precious Intel. His direct superior, Bob Greenwood (Assistant to the President for Domestic Policy) demanded that they both go to see the Boss immediately.

They walked down through the halls of the White House. Greenwood had called the boss ahead of time, demanding and receiving a 15-minute opening within his schedule. They entered the Oval Office, with the President of the United States seating behind his desk, and his Chief of Staff Ronald Gold standing by his side.

Greenwood opened his mouth. "Mr. President, we have bad news…"

_**5:18 PM**_

Ajax saw those Jones Street Boys aim their revolvers into his direction. He didn't have time to react.

Four guns go off. Three bullets immediately slam into the Mustang's windshield with veracious velocity and power. Ajax tried to budge his body by sliding down his seat. His instant instinct was to stomp on the gas pedal. They've gotta get the hell out of here and quickly. Two more shots go off, one hitting the hood of the car.

Ajax was about to get a quick glance to see if Snow is outright. That's when the gun shot from inside the car exploded, deafening the ears of Ajax. Snow had his own piece in his dashboard?!?

Snow fires a second shot through the windshield. That should buy them some time. Ajax pumps the Mustang's pedal to its maximum extent. Going 85 mph, without any suggestion of stopping, the Jones Street Boys scramble and run to get out of the way.

Snow leaned out of his open car door and took his own gun, aiming at the Jones Street Boys that were quickly fading away from the horizon behind him. Then he saw his face.

Snow's fingers on the trigger froze. His mind was too numb in shock to react.

Then the car swerved, jolting Snow at his side. He gets back into his car. He hadn't noticed that Ajax had his arm extended from his car, flipping the middle finger at the would-be assassins and yelling into the mass empty void of the air.

"Eat that wimps! You think you could me out?!? I'm the Mighty Ajax! Nothing can destroy me!" Realizing that the Boys couldn't hear him, he put his arm back into the car, closing the window up.

He took a breath, and then snapped back into attention.

"Snow, you okay? Did those bullets get you anywhere?!?"

Snow pelted himself all over. "No, I'm ok. Are you alright?"

"Ehhh, I'm alright. But my ears are still ringing from your firing your gun inside the car. What were you thinking?!?" Ajax's face is grimacing at this slight pain.

"I panicked, and I figured that since those Boys were shooting at us directly ahead of us, my shots might force those punks to duck and maybe for you to run over them."

Ajax looked around at what's left of the Mustang. Five giant holes in the windshield. Broken glass shattered all over the dashboard. 3 gunshot holes in the back window of the car. Some white smoke is rising from the car's hood. That one bullet must have wrecked it. Worse of all, the radio quit playing. Those punks killed the radio while the station was playing his favorite song. Bastards!

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, we almost got some of them. You know Snow; I was going to say that you have a real nice car but…"

"Shut up and drive! Get us back to Coney!"

**_5:34 PM_**

Rembrandt is touching up on his latest masterpiece. A giant red and bold "W" over what was a well-worn tag bombed by the herald for the Panzers.

Seating near him is one of the newest recruits for the Warriors, just inducted into the membership almost 3 weeks ago. Stonewall is a southern boy, around 20 years old, who sometime, somehow along the way came up to the Big Apple a few years ago. But that is another story. He is writing in his precious diary book, just a few reflections on today's activities and the beautiful, if outright ugly, sunset coming down over the city skyline, with its orange glare being distorted by the cloud of smog permanently hovering over the city.

They're standing on the rooftop of a building. After the celebrated herald of the Warriors is finished bombing, cars coming from Coney will be able to see the Warriors banner hanging like a sore eye over the Panzers' own turf. Hopefully the enemy doesn't see them.

"Well, I'm done." He stepped back as Stonewall got up from his position.

"Bravo Rembrandt! It's so simple, but gorgeous. Also, it demands your total attention."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it sure beats the post-modernistic garbage I've seen in museums in the last few years."

Within his mind, Rembrandt is stroking his ego, when he looks down on the street. Coming their way is a Ford Mustang that's wrecked, and accelerating like a junkie on speed.

"Look Stonewall, it looks like Snow's Mustang!"

Stonewall peered down. "My God, you're right. Somebody must have tried to jump Snow and Ajax on their way from Riker's. Radio in to Coney and tell them they're coming, injured, and get some manpower reinforcements up to the gate. Trouble might be following the boys back home."

Rembrandt quickly grabbed the old walkie-talkie strapped to his side. "Yoyo this is Unit Paint, calling Coney…"

_**5:36 PM**_

He keeps pushing the pedal in futility.

"Snow, I got bad news"

"What?"

"I think that bullet has screwed up the brakes. They aren't working!"

"Oh f---!"

"Hang the hell on!"

The car is swerving all over the road. Other cars on the street have to drive off the road to avoid this potential disaster.

"Look Ajax, there's the border!"

The car zooms past the invisible northern border of the Warriors domain. Its home, but can it be stopped?


	5. Wake Up & Smell the Coffin

**Chapter 3: Wake Up & Smell the Coffin**

_**September 5, 2006  
3 PM**_

"The way I see it Bob, out of this wonderful book of yours, we can make 3 very good movies that will make a profit."

Robert Lee Dougherty is confused. He thought this other man wanted the film rights just to his unpublished book, but now its three movies from his book? He can barely comprehend all that he is hearing for this would-be buyer talks very fast.

"Think of it this way Bob. The central protagonist of this trilogy I'm proposing would of course be Swan. The first movie would be about how Swan, Cleon and Vermin join the Destroyers, until they see how Virgil is screwing them. They split to create their own rightful cut of the money with their own gang the Warriors. They recruit the rest of the serious lieutenants. Cowboy, Fox, Cochise, Ajax, Rembrandt, and Snow. Then by the third act, they match the power of the Destroyers in terms of muscle and numbers. By the end of film one, the Warriors defeat Virgil and rule Coney Island under one flag, and Swan is Cleon's trusted second-in-command. I know this basic idea might skew over several important facts and details, but it would make for a gripping action-drama narrative. "

While he has the urges to be disappointed and angry about the simplying the past of his former comrades, alive and dead, at his heart Robert is a writer. Besides, simplying the truth for the sake of the dramatic cinema narrative worked out well for Nicholas Pileggi on GOODFELLAS and CASINO, right?

"Ok Mister, if that is your first movie, what would the other two films consist of?"

"Well, the second movie would be about the night that Cyrus was shot, when the Warriors are trapped behind enemy lines, 100,000 hardcore soldiers wanting to kill all 9 Warriors. More action-adventure than drama, but the movie ends on the beaches of Coney, where Swan defeat the Punks, who are destroyed by the Riffs."

"Well, thing is, I have Walter Hill that really wants to make that particular portion of the story."

"Is he the guy that directed LONG RIDERS?"

"Yeah"

"Right, well imagine the third movie, the last of this trilogy. Obviously it would be about the Warriors and the rest of the Riff-led coalition fighting the New Alliance for control of the city, and inevitably fighting the United States government, who of course are backing the NA forces. Now you, as Stonewall, would be introduced, as the chronicler of the Warriors' entire history. With Swan through the two previous movies, you are the person that becomes his top advisor and the guy that would create ultimately the Warriors myth that survives to this day in New York City. We see the fate of the remaining Warriors..."

Dougherty's ego is the first to respond.

"I like this idea. Lets talk about it over lunch tomorrow."

"Well, before we go into a serious film relationship like this, I want you to write the screenplay for this trilogy. Second, Leo wants to be Swan."

Dougherty put the phone down for a moment. Swan was wise but tough, a rare combination for a street soldier in the old days. Can that TITANIC punk even pull it off? Nah.

"Well, Mr. Scorsese, lets talk about it tomorrow at lunch. 1 o'clock at Hatfields. Good?" 

_**October 17, 1979**_

_**5:40 PM**_

On a street corner somewhere in New York City, a blood in Jones Street Boys regalia is talking into a public pay phone. The problem is that his British accent doesn't match the uniform.

"Hey, don't yell at me! It wasn't me who bragged to me that wasting those Warriors punks in that Mustang will be easier than those dumb Scousers at the car wash back in April. Of course they got lucky. Quit panicking, we will take them down. All right, bye."

click

The blonde foreigner walked out of the booth. Waiting for him was a man with heavy black beard and long hair, a person that doesn't match his JSB treads. "I told you we should have used shotguns."

_**Meanwhile…**_

The car from out of hell continues to tear up the Warriors street kingdom. The brakes are out, and unless the boys can figure something out quickly, their remains will be picked up with a sponge.

In the panic of what could be the last moments of their lives, Snow gets an idea.

"Ajax, I know how we could stop."

"How?"

"Get to the Broadwalk."

"What?!?!"

"Do it!"

The Ford Mustang penetrates into Coney Island itself, and Ajax just barely avoided accidentally running over a pair of Warriors by the shinny chin of his chin. Ajax takes a sharp turn, and now chaos on wheels is driving on the Broadwalk.

Snow is ready as he puts his seat belt on. "Ajax, get buckled and hang the hell on. Turn as tight as possible when I yell turn."

Ajax buckles his seat belt. If his eyes could be seen right now, someone would sight a glimpse of fear. He takes a breath.

"TURN!"

Ajax turns the wheel.

Vermin and Cowboy are on the boardwalk, and worried as hell. The radio-ed report by Rembrandt reported that Snow's car was wrecked and running for home. Now the reports from the other sentries on Coney are that the car is out of control.

They see the Mustang straight ahead. Cowboy squeezes hard on his Stetson hat when the Mustang takes a radical sharp right turn and keeps turning. Vermin is about to ask Cowboy what is Snow and Ajax trying to do when the car flips over. The two Warriors helplessly watch as the Mustang, with all the velocity it generated, now tips over and over. They count 4 total 360 degree spins that the car goes through in the air before finally resting upside down on the Boardwalk.

They rush to the scene of this disaster.

20 Warriors all run to the flipped totaled car, all trying to peer to see if the occupants are alive. A young civilian woman runs over to try to help, but several of the Warriors stare at her. She gets the message, and runs away.

"Ugh, this was your great idea?"

Snow doesn't have the urge to deal with Ajax's complaining. No wait…

"Screw off"

Vermin is the first on the scene.

"Ajax, are you ok?"

"Is your sister not a whore? No we're not fine. Get us out of there!"

Cowboy finally enters the scene. Ten more Warriors are coming up to the rear from the distance.

"Cowboy, what took you so long?"

"Sorry Vermin, I lost my hat again. I really need to get a strap or something…"

Ajax made his final rebuttal. "Or I could staple it to your skull!"

**Next Chapter:** The Revenger's Revolver


End file.
